


Hunter’s Tango

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Choking, F/M, Hate Sex, Obsessive Behavior, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Violence, dimigard week, porn with (complicated) feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A reunion at Gronder turns vicious
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous Fics, Dimigard Week





	Hunter’s Tango

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags before proceeding.  
> Dimigard week - Day 6. Daggers

When he saw her again, she was beautiful, just as he remembered her. Standing atop the same hill she’d stood all those years ago, the orange glow of a relic illuminated her delicate features and the look of utter arrogance in her eyes. It would be a fitting grave, he thought, to destroy her here. Old memories of her would die here too.

In his hand, Areadbhar, at the back of his hip, her dagger. That would be the blade used to kill her, shoved into her heart as it should have been ages ago.

Would she regret everything after that? Doubtful. But she would haunt him, no less than his other loved ones had, a price to be paid for the peace of so many lives lost. It was with that thought he stepped forward, clinging to his resolve.

When Edelgard spotted him, it was with a smile, as though she had any right. "Not even a greeting?" she said, ever the picture of calculated composure. "I suppose you always were so impatient."

"You can have your greeting when you face those you've slaughtered in the eternal flames," Dimitri said, focusing himself upon his lance and adding all of his strength to that first blow, barely grazing her. How uncoordinated he'd become, though he supposed he'd always been something of an animal when consumed with rage. No matter, finesse meant nothing now, only the strength required to end this.

"I have no intent on dying here today, Dimitri," she said, raising her axe to fend off his next attack. "And you will not have to die either, if you stand aside."

"How generous," he sneered. "If only you had offered such kindness to the rest of the lives trampled beneath your boot."

She huffed, and again warded off another blow, the edge of his lance catching her hip that time. There was no response as her stance swayed to favor the other side, even as she was forced to step backward to keep his assault at bay. Step for step they met the other—a dance, his wounded mind supplied—her leading him backwards as he followed. Wide-eyed and panting in animal glee, he could almost taste her defeat, relishing her waning focus and slipping strength as her wound impaired her movement. It didn't matter how far she fled, or what trap she may have been leading him to. Whatever it took, so long as she died here today. If his life was the price to be paid for that, then he'd offer it freely.

With whatever strength she had left, Edelgard leapt forward, locking their blades together before shoving her own roughly downward, breaking both. Momentarily stunned, Dimitri tossed aside the broken remains, lunging for her retreating form. He grabbed her wrist, tugging her backwards. A sharp yelp followed as her back crashed against his chest, and a pained groan of his own as she shoved her elbow backwards into his sternum to force his grip free.

He panted, a feral smile across his lips as he bared his teeth and observed her. "Nowhere to run, Edelgard."

"Then you've underestimated me," she said, eyes darting over his figure. 

"Have I?" he laughed, mirthless. So close, one last attack to knock her down and she would be helpless. 

"You always have," she said, surprising him as she charged him, lunging for his waist. Doubtlessly she spotted the dagger and sought to regain the upper hand. Again he caught her wrist and threw her to the ground, a snap following as her horned crown collided with the earth below and split, her hair tumbling free from its confines. 

Dazed, she lifted her head, a laugh breaking the sounds of war as she tipped her head in defiance towards the sky. If she had been anyone else, that would have killed her. At least, that was what he told himself, refusing to consider he'd kept himself in even the smallest amount of restraint. His blood was pulsing, a rush throughout his entire body as his skin prickled with delight, knowing his revenge was within reach. More alive than he'd felt for five years, he stepped forward thumbing the hilt of the dagger. She'd cut her own path, now it was time for him to cut his.

She was beautiful still, her will unshaken even as he approached, unflinching as he trailed his knuckles down the side of her cheek. "I would say goodbye, but I doubt you'll appreciate it," he said, a momentary uncertainty in his chest. He caught a lock of hair between his fingertips, thumbing over it gently to snuff the lingering question as to what it felt like. "El."

She punched him in the jaw, defiant to her last as he caught her fist, lacing his fingers between her own. How hopelessly familiar.

Surely all that remained now was the inevitable. A sharp twist of his wrist, and this would be done, her dagger in her chest and her blood upon the earth. So why did his hand falter? Why did her unwavering gaze do nothing to fuel the vengeance he so desperately clung to for years? It had been his one savior, the only thing that had kept his spirit, and thereby his body, alive.

Yet now the dead had forsaken him, none to urge him forward, to guide his hand and erase all doubt. Rodrigue had warned him of this, and he'd sworn it would not happen. He'd vowed to the dead his affection was disposed of, strengthened himself in preparation for this moment. Here she stood. Still alive. Still beautiful. Still smiling.

She broke the silence. "Well then?"

Dimitri's fist closed around her throat, a loud roar departing his lips as he shoved her to the desecrated field. The sound of Edelgard's groan echoed in his ear, muddled behind the pressure at her windpipe. How cruel, to hear the noises he'd longed to elicit years ago in this of all settings. To see the red in her cheeks not for the want of his body, but for the want of air. Her pulse thundered beneath his touch, and despite himself, he could not resist tracing a thumb across it, savoring the thud with a trembling exhale. 

A knee shot up in an attempt to kick him, not hard enough to dislodge him but enough to loosen his grip. A shameful arousal dripped down his spine as the heavy sounds of gasping cut through the haze, cock twitching in interest as he examined her features and focused on her panting lips. Edelgard heaved a final sputter as her fingers came to clutch around Dimitri's wrist in her last effort to regain control, a momentary blaze in her expression akin to hate. Her struggle halted, calm, even breaths tickling the ends of his hair, her eyes once more empty but for the flawless mask of indifference. 

It should have been simple. His fist was already there, his monstrous strength had served him before. So why couldn't he find the will?

"How weak," Edelgard said, a mocking smile dancing at the corner of her mouth. "If you want to kill me, make it quick. If you want to fuck me, find your resolve. Yet you seem to falter between both."

Furious, Dimitri bared his teeth, leaning forward as though to snap and snarl. Her lavender eyes dilated for the quickest of moments, her lips parted in a silent breath that warmed his face. Even within the fog of his rage she was magnetic, and he leaned forward, their lips meeting in a faint, brief caress as he spoke. "Beg me for it." Whether he intended the statement to be for a quick death or for his cock, he hardly knew.

"How highly you think of yourself," Edelgard said, her index finger tracing indiscernible patterns into his wrist. She met his challenge, inching her lips closer. "When have you known me to beg?"

Never. Not once in their peaceful hours had Edelgard begged. It had always been her, taking what she wanted, defiant. Taking his hand, his every waking thought, his dreams and his secrets.

Taking his heart too.

Sputtering in incoherent rage, Dimitri's grip across her throat slackened, now seeking purchase along the collar of her gown. For what purpose, he again did not know. To drag her closer, to threaten her, to garner any reaction at all? Only the smallest flash of something met her eyes, unidentifiable and quickly displaced by her typical regal composure.

That mask would fall, he decided, his lips furiously seeking her own. 

With teeth and tongue he pried her mouth open, licking at the soft flesh and swallowing suppressed moans. How infuriating, to never know what she must taste like. So his mind supplied its own. Ash. For her legacy, for the dead, for the flames that had burnt his life to nothing more than just that.

His hands caught her writhing hips, enclosing them within his bruising grasp and keeping them still so that he might rut against her like the beast he was. How long he had fantasized for something just like this. First in vague, shameful flashes and adolescent daydreams of heated contests between them that turned into passion, then into reckless fantasy, always on the precipice between violence and lust.

She responded in turn, grasping at him, rough and equally affected. A hand tugged his hair, harsh and demanding as she crushed her lips to his and his lower lip split upon her teeth with the force behind her touch, blood lapped away as she sucked it. The other hand was at his hip, pushing as though to guide him atop her before she dragged it toward his backside, only stopped as he slammed it beside her head.

How utterly characteristic it was, to see her so presumptuous of her leadership. But this wasn't about her regaining control, though doubtlessly she despised knowing it was slipping. It only aroused him further, knowing that even if for just a moment, she'd given into her more base, animal side, beneath his touch no less.

If only things had been more simple, a voice whispered, if she hadn't left Fhirdiad. Perhaps then they could have explored this in a kinder light, where they could cede control between them as they pleased, rather than clawing for it endlessly while the scent of blood and the sounds of war were inescapable. Instead, he accepted a hollow imitation of the things he'd wanted.

Angered in his lapse, Dimitri bit her shoulder, as though he had something to prove to himself. His hands groped at her dress in a clumsy attempt to shove it over her thighs, aided as she lifted her hips to allow for better purchase.

Edelgard responded in kind, her fingers clinging onto his belt. With fervor she worked at the clasp of his codpiece, trailing teasing fingers over his erection as she tossed the armor aside. "How long have you wanted this?" she asked, the slow drag of her hand across his cock spreading something akin to fire beneath his skin.

"Shut your wretched mouth," he spat, her words echoing within him. Far too long, and far too much. How many nights had he spent, dreaming of her? Whether to tear her to pieces, to walk hand in hand, or to fuck her until she could speak no more, she was always there, dancing along as she pleased.

"Denial, I see," she hummed, biting at his throat. Little kisses led up to his ear, her breath ghosting over it in warm waves as she whispered, "Don't think for a moment I hadn't noticed how you looked at me."

Had it been so obvious then? Stunned silent, Dimitri opened his mouth yet could not find his voice, and she took the opportunity to bite his lip. 

She spoke for him. "You thought yourself discreet?" A wicked smirk blossomed, her hips rolling as he panted in absolute need. Damn her. "Even now your body betrays you. You have every opportunity to kill me, yet here you are, offering yourself to me."

Again there were no words he could find, only fury that demanded to silence the truths she spoke. With a roar he shoved her wrists down, grasping them taut as he spat vitriol. Despite it, his cock throbbed, aching with the need to be inside of her, to ruin her.

"Spread your legs," he commanded. "Let's see how witty you believe yourself to be once I'm finished."

The laugh she barked was short. Unwavering and oppositional, her thighs captured his own, shoving it between her legs as she dragged slow circles across it. In turn he pushed his knee higher and crushed his mouth to hers once more, responding to her motions with his own as he ground himself to her hip. 

He could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. How pathetic they were, taking petty joy in attempting to maintain any semblance of dignity while the other crumbled. They were monsters both, as insufferable in their passions as they were in their hate.

His touch trailed down her front, and he took some small measure of interest in the way she gave the slightest of pauses as he hooked a finger beneath her collar. He continued downward, tracing fingertips slowly across her sternum until his hand was flat between her breasts. Her pulse stuttered slightly, far more honest than her expression.

How fragile she felt beneath him in that moment, even as she remained stiff in quiet anger. Monstrous as she was, she was a woman made of flesh and blood; blood that sang his praises. His other hand caught her thigh, dragging it higher over his hip, fingers pushing brutishly into the soft flesh until she bruised. A smile crossed his lips as he conjured a fleeting vision of her days from now, still bearing fading marks and asked to remember her weakness here each time she saw them.

His palm sought her breast, groping at it without kindness. Perhaps it had said something about her confidence, to not bother protecting her heart with armor, but rather reinforced fabrics. How easy it would be to push his hand through her chest and grab her heart. Again he could not find the nerve, and opted to ignore that guilt as he luxuriated in her flushed red face.

She rode his leg with vigor, the painful drag of her nails at the back of his neck spurring him forward to find the tiniest sliver of exposed skin and nip. The moan Edelgard gave ignited a new fire within him, as did the little shudder as she rocked herself to orgasm against his thigh. This had been what he'd wanted, wasn't it? To see her come undone in his arms? Suppressed thoughts taunted him, whispers of how beautiful she was in her pleasure, how his heart fluttered at the sight with something he dared not try to place.

So he buried it. "Already? How depraved," Dimitri hissed, tightening his grasp.

Edelgard would not dignify the insult with a response, and held his gaze as she resumed her grinding. In retaliation he withdrew, and despite the clipped, annoyed huff she did not chase him further. She would not allow herself to sink to desperation. She never had.

Nor would she allow herself to be treated without dignity, snarling and refusing him as he attempted to turn her over. Very well. If she wished to look him in the eye, he could oblige.

Quick work was made of her tights, the fabric tearing beneath his grasp with ease. Her panties were wet with arousal, and he bit off a glove, spitting it aside as he slid his fingertips against the spot. Her eyes fluttered closed as he pushed her panties aside and nudged at her entrance, a faint sheen of sweat across her brow as he pressed firmly against her. Soft and slick, she easily accepted a finger, then a second as he began to fuck them inside of her. His other hand, still gauntleted, grasped her chin, allowing him to watch her every minute expression, the faint panting growing louder with each motion, her eyes opening once more. 

Not one to be bested, Edelgard's lips curled around the tip of his thumb, the flicking of her tongue against the metal meant for display rather than pleasure. A display that, despite his best efforts, did stoke his arousal, his cock aching and straining almost painfully. Unable to continue the teasing, he withdrew his fingers and tore her panties away, her hands meeting his own when he began tugging at his trousers.

Once freed, he pulled her forward and lined himself up against her, taking one final brutal kiss before pushing the tip of himself inside of her. The sensation of it dragged a harsh breath from his lungs, near overwhelmed at just how good it felt.

She pushed herself fully around him, her nails digging into the back of his neck and forcing his gaze to lock with her own. As she always had, she led, her hips rolling beneath his as she rode his cock as best she could in her current position. He returned the favor with a violent thrust. The little cracks in her mask as she moaned only added to his vigor, motions growing self-assured and harsh as though he intended to bruise her. Perhaps he had.

They moved together, a battle in its own right as they fought the other for control. Her heels at the base of his spine, his fingertips digging into her thighs, all acts of war. She'd shoved him backwards, riding him momentarily and gloating above him, and he rolled them back, tangling his fingers into the damnable white hair that had haunted his dreams.

He could feel his orgasm building, and suppressed the urge, refusing to lose before she would. His calloused thumb sought her clit, drawing circles until he found the one spot that made her shiver and focused there.

Evidently she too refused to lose, her motions growing increasingly frantic against him, her legs drawing him closer and guiding his thrusts. And when she breathed the tiniest moan and went stiff, he knew he'd claimed his victory, even if she would not admit to it.

She again pushed him, following him down and riding him, her hair tumbling across her shoulder and brushing his chest with each motion. As always, she never backed down, never avoided his eyes, never spoke aloud as he skimmed his hands up her thighs and guided her motions with a crushing hold.

This would not be a battle in which he'd come victorious, the overwhelming sensation building in his groin no longer able to be ignored as she leaned forward and kissed him. Not with malice, nor with affection, nothing more than a brushing of her lips to his own. Yet it was that simple act of near-intimacy that broke his will. He came with a snarl, gauntlets digging into her thigh as he roughly dragged her hips down to sink the entirety of his cock inside of her, the other hand curled around the back of her neck, extending their kiss.

Every fantasy, every evening alone palming himself and cursing her name, every ounce of himself—hate, love, longing—pumped into her as he growled her name.

_El. El. El._

For five years she had been his only institution. His hated enemy, his lost friend, his unspoken desire. And now that he had her, he wasn't certain what to do with himself.

Silent, he combed his fingers through her hair, tending to her as though she were a lover rather than an enemy. Whatever was on Edelgard's mind, she made no motion to expose it. How easily this came for her. His own raw and exposed heart was ever on display, and she'd used it against him so perfectly.

Her weight against him was grounding, the slowing of her heartbeat against his chest a reminder of his failure. Just a moment more, he swore to himself. He could not stay and this could not last.

In some other lifetime, it could have. How bitter the thought.

Hazy, he allowed his head to tip back, half-aware of how vulnerable his throat was, breath coming in clouded, even waves. Edelgard made no immediate move to strike, and instead peered down at him as though to assess her work before her hand slipped around the back of his waist. The sound of a dagger being unsheathed met his ears, and he tossed her back, pushing himself to his knees in preparation for whatever came next.

She lay limp for a moment, a brief rush of something akin to fear flooding his chest before she lifted herself on her palms. Wordlessly, she stood, lips pursed as she smoothed her skirt and buttoned her cloak closer, dagger balanced between her fingers as she worked. "I am only taking back what is mine."

"So you knew?" Dimitri hissed, voice foreign to his ears. Pushing himself to stand, he tucked himself back into his clothes. The sounds of an impending storm dimmed the already forgotten clash of battle.

She did not answer, only hummed an acknowledgement before continuing her own thoughts. "I swore an oath upon this very blade, one to cut my own path. I have no intent on rescinding that oath." A pause. "I'm certain you know that well."

He could only watch, incredulous. Fate was certainly cruel, the things he'd wanted to hear being offered when he could neither appreciate nor accept them. The recognition he'd so desperately desired, his own words, spat back in his face as justification for _this_?

"If you continue to stand in my way, then there is no other path than the one that lies across your grave. Are you willing to die?" Edelgard asked, the first drops of rain trailing down her hair as she knelt to gather the shattered remains of her axe.

"I have been awaiting it," he snapped. The cold of the rain did nothing to distract him, rapt with attention only on her. "So long as I drag you to hell with me."

"So you've said. Here I stand, a testament to your lost will," she sighed, casting an indifferent glance over her shoulder. "Stand down, Dimitri. I am offering you a chance to live; not as a king, but a life nonetheless."

There was no retort. How bitter the sound of his name on her lips was, when it had once been everything he'd wanted. Even now, she was still beautiful. Beautiful, and alive. Every vow, every night bargaining with the dead, tossed aside for his own incapability to destroy someone once so dear. 

As though sensing his defeat, Edelgard tucked the blade away, never once looking back as she began her path forward. No force within him would allow him to follow her, to whatever end that would mean. There was only the sound of the rain now, and her departing words.

"Goodbye, my dear friend. May our paths never cross again."


End file.
